Chapter 35
"To the basement," I announced. "Um, hey, Bozo."
"Dylan," he corrected.
"Yeah, you. How much security is down there?"
"Not much," Dylan said. "Work goes on at night. The guys are just locked in."
I glared. "And you haven't got a problem with that?"
He rolled a shoulder. "It's not like they're genetic perfection like the rest of us, they're just… good enough."
"Good enough to lock up," Iggy said, prepping a lockpick. "I'm ready for this, Max."
"Get started," I said. "Folks, how many guys are down there?"
"Forty-eight," a young black-haired girl said. Aelea, the "match" for Iggy.
Iggy whirled around, arching an eyebrow. "Sorry?" he said.
"Forty-eight," she repeated. "You each get nine companions, counting your soulmate."
"Son of a bitch," Iggy muttered. "I can't pick forty-eight locks, that's ridiculous."
"We're all gonna help you out," Gazzy said quickly. "Come on, we can get this done in a matter of minutes."
I flexed my index finger, and a single narrow rod extended from it. There it is.
You got a problem with that? What kind of cyborg would I be if I didn't have a lockpick attachment? Come on.
"Thank God, 'cause this is gonna freakin' suck, folks," Iggy said, walking unerringly to the basement door.
Dylan smirked. "Hey, Aelea, your guy is more grouchy than we ever role-played him, huh? You're gonna have to work at it."
Nudge, following Iggy, absent-mindedly slapped Dylan as she passed.
We all congregated to the basement… oh, the horror. The horror. It was straight out of my childhood.
A row of cages, none of them tall enough for the occupants to stand in, lined the bleached floor. At the far end of the room were the windows, windows to another shiny room. Whatever went on behind that window… I didn't want to know.
I began working at the very closest lock. The guy in there looked up at me, sleepy-eyed. "Wha's goin' on?" he mumbled.
"We're busting you out of here, man," I said gently. "We're saving your life."
He blinked. "You're, uh… you're the flock. You're the saviors."
"Damn right."
"Which one are you?" he whispered.
I heard the satisfying click as the tumblers opened, then looked at him surprised. "I'm Max, dude. You don't know that?"
"We're, um…" he began absently. "We're not as informed as your 'perfect other half'," he said, glowering at Dylan. "They don't tell us anything."
"Well, that ends now," I assured him. "Equal treatment all around."
"…Really?" he said.
"Yeah," I said. "If you try to hit on me, I'll break your jaw every bit as much as I'll break Dylan's."
"I'd pay to see that," he said.
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It was almost an hour later that we got everybody out of the cages.
"Boy, this isn't gonna be easy," I muttered. "How are we gonna get all these people to safety?"
Nudge tapped my shoulder. "Can I take this one?" she whispered. "You know, the public speaking thing?"
"Yeah, that's a whole lot of your area," I said. "Go."
Nudge walked to the stop of the stairs. "Listen up!" she said loudly. "Okay, there are sixty-eight of us, and if we're all gonna get out of here alive, we have to function as a single unit. We're going out the back door and flying to the roof of the building, where we'll rest until Max can formulate our next move. With all of us going up there at once, we won't escape being noticed—we'll be the talk of Manhattan. However, in such a large group, nobody's gonna be able to do anything about it, even if we are loitering on private property. We've got the strength of numbers and, damn it all, we're gonna use it. Max, any revisions?"
I stepped up to her. "Sounds good," I said. "But, uh, are we sure they're able to get up to a roof?"
"They wouldn't breed us with people who can't fly, right?" Nudge said. "HANDS UP, WHO CAN'T FLY?"
Some of the group shot us scowls. No hands went up.
"See? They're offended," Nudge said. "We're outta here."
-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-
And in a matter of minutes, we'd gotten the entire group onto the roof of the Institute. I peered over the edge and zoomed in with my eye; people were still looking up and staring…
I turned back to Fang. "Would you look at that, Fang?" I said. "I'm looking at sixty-seven people right in front of me. My entire protectorate… and Sean."
Fang snorted with a laugh. "You ought to address them," he said.
"Yeah, all right," I said. "Ahem… HEY!"
Every gloomy face glanced up at me.
"Okay, listen," I said. "People who came here with me, come stand over here. Everybody else… well, I hate to say this, but you should get this straight. We don't want you. We'll never want you."
Confused mutterings. Oh boy.
"Look, I don't want you to think that your lives are ruined," I said. "Your lives are just beginning now. We're offering you… free will. That's what we're doing, right?" I said, turning to Fang.
"Since when do you have trouble with public speaking?" he whispered.
"I don't know," I said. "It's… it's 'these guys'! I don't know how to talk to them." I cleared my throat and turned back to the crowd. "Hey, folks," I said. "Listen, I… I grew up in a crate, all right? I know what you've been through. And I'm pretty sure… I know what you've been told. But here's the truth. The end of the world scenario that you've been taught—I will not allow it to happen. But things will change in the world, and…"
"Bollocks," Sean said.
My claws extended, instantly appearing at Sean's throat. "You say something, Sean?" I said casually.
"There's no need for that," Sean said. "But could I just speak?"
"Shoot," I said.
"I'm not a part of any group here," he said. "I'm on me own, but there's one thing that I'm absolutely sure of." He stepped around my grasp and stood in front of the crowd.
"This isn't about the world," he said. "This is about two groups. Ye've got the CSM, ye've got the Survivors. Now, these two groups are gonna duke it out. Maybe one will win, maybe the other, maybe they're both destroyed. Don't matter. Life on earth, gonna be exactly the same as it was before. Neither of 'em are that powerful." He looked over at the flock. "And ye know this. Ye can't really think that one side or the other is actually going to destroy or preserve the planet?"
No one spoke for a moment. The first to speak was Falon.
"Sean, you're full of shi'," she said. "You've seen the stuff 'appening, we're living in a dark time."
"Yeah," Nudge said. "So, are you gonna stick around or aren't you?"
Sean looked around wildly, seeing no one taking his side. "Ye're… ye're all mad," he said. "The world isn't endin'! Okay? It just… isn't. No one can do that! We're livin' in the same times we always have!"
"Dude…" Fang said. "You're even more wrong than you were when you said you knew the lyrics to 'Lunchlady Land'."
"Ye don't have t' fight with the CSM!" Sean said. "Ye could defeat the Survivors, nothin' would change. Ye could hide out here in New York for all time and nothin' would change! Nothin'! All we can do is hope we can make it in the real world! Look, here…" He pulled a wad of bills out of his pockets. "Look, I've made some investments," he said. "It's expandin', we can all hide somewhere in the mountains and watch the world go by! 'Cause we're never gonna make a difference. Ever. Why… why can't ye all accept that?"
Tooey walked up to Sean. "Your money won't do you any good when the Survivors win," she said. "And if Max wins, well, I'm hoping for a world where having money doesn't automatically mean you're a good person. So get out of here, Sean, and take your crummy morals with you."
Sean sighed. "Oh, me love… fine. I'm goin'. I… I hope we cross paths again, so ye can see that I'm right." He clasped Iggy's hand randomly before starting to the edge of the building.
Iggy felt his fingers. "He took my wedding ring," he said. "Get back here with my wedding ring, you little prick!"
Iggy bolted after Sean and tackled him, wrestling the ring back from him. "What the hell is the matter with you?" Iggy said, disgusted.
Sean glared and flew off into the clouds.
"Bastard," Iggy mumbled.
"Okay, um…" I said, watching Sean's retreat. "Well, it is getting a bit dark, maybe we should camp out right up here. We'll sleep. Lightly, but we'll sleep."
"Good deal," Iggy said. He started walking toward Nudge. Aelea tried to lean in and touch him, but he nimbly sidestepped her, taking Nudge's hand.
Ugh. Most of these people were miserable and sluggish—frankly, relateable. The other six guys were just annoying… in fact, the buff blond was staring dreamily at me even now.
"What are you doing, Dylan?" I said.
"Oh… nothing," he said.
"Nothing? Are you sure? 'Cause it seems to me that you're staring."
He shrugged. "All right, I'm staring. Am I not permitted?"
I flicked him violently. "No," I said darkly. "You're not."